


Mr Tomlinson

by Ecila



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Harry aroused by all this, Louis sexually harassing Harry, M/M, Plenty of other delinquents will appear, Rimming, Sex, Student!Harry, Teacher being inappropriate, Teacher-Student Relationship, anything dirty that I can think of, dirty fantasies, pervert!Louis, smut in class, smut smut smut, teacher!Louis, your favourite teacher/student Larry AU smut fantasies will come true
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-18
Updated: 2015-08-06
Packaged: 2017-12-29 18:47:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1008793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ecila/pseuds/Ecila
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Truth be told,” he pauses, stares at each of his students for one wistful moment, “I never wanted to be a teacher.” he smirks, watches his student’s eyebrows raise and knows he’s got their full attention now, “I never did, swear to god.” A smirk takes over his features, “But I always wanted to fuck a student into the hard, cold wooden desks in a class room.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>OR the teacher/student AU, in which Louis not only is a teacher, he's also a big ass pervert. Who's got a dirty mouth... and Harry happens to have a perky little and so so inviting buttock.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. "The Homosexual Pedophile"

**Author's Note:**

> As always, this started off as a joke to pass time... but you see... Louis being a perverted teacher is just... C'MON! That's GOLD! :D  
> Not sure how good I'm at interpreting my idea, but the idea is great... haha.
> 
> So this is a Larry AU, cause WHO has NOT fantasized about them being student/teacher, c'mon be honest here!  
> Lou want(ed) to be a teacher, if 1D wouldn't have happened. Haz would've been the part-time bakery student who, happens to run into teacher Lou one day and BOOM sex happens. Only that it'd be private and not for us to see, while this smutty fiction will be all open on the net... so love me :D

Louis William Tomlinson is one outrageous man. But just as much as he’s a nutcase, he’s brilliant too. So damn brilliant, that teacher don’t understand him at all - even though he is _supposedly_ one of them. Well, he isn’t really, when you consider him that asshole that he most times is – more often than not, really. He is too damn smart and too damn unpredictable. 

So when he stands in front of the class of male Seniors, is asked ' _why the hell_ he doesn't properly teach them anything', Louis Tomlinson snorts in response, eyes the brave student that dares speaking up and using such kind of language against their teacher and has that dangerous glint in his blue eyes, “'Cause I don't like to teach.” Louis replies, though slow, slightly husky and eyes of the richest sapphire when he stares intensely back at the student that instinctively slouches down, trying to hide in the mass of faces. But he can't escape and Louis' gaze bores right into his. 

“Then why _are_ you a teacher?” another student asks, but ducks his head away, when Louis Tomlinson languidly slowly turns his attention to the new voice' direction and smirks all amused and openly unfazed. He is enjoying this, the fucker is so enjoying this, one of his students, Harry, thinks but something about Louis Tomlinson freaks him out, so he keeps his head down and watches Louis' moistening his lower lip before opening his mouth slowly and answering. 

“Truth be told,” he pauses, stares at each of his students for one wistful moment, “I never wanted to be a teacher.” he smirks, watches his student’s eyebrows raise and knows he’s got their full attention now, “I never did, swear to god.” A smirk takes over his features, “But I always wanted to fuck a student into the hard, cold wooden desks in a class room.”

And then silence follows and Harry stares with wide-eyes. What the actual fuck?!

 

 

*

Liam's eyebrows raise about to the roots of his hair when he stares at Harry in what can only be described as shock and disbelief. 

Harry stares right back, doesn't bother to try to snap Liam out of his trance, because to be all honest, he can't quite grasp the situation either. 

Liam shakes his head then, several times, swallows slowly and blinks profusely, as though that helps clearing his head. “From... from the start, please, I don't... I don't think I've heard you correctly, did you...?”

“Okay,” Harry clears his throat, completely thrown off, when he starts telling Liam all about the most awkward lesson he's ever had to endure. “So, this morning started like any other, Mr Tomlinson came about 20 minutes late, wrote a page number onto the blackboard and then he sorta sat down – with his feet onto his desk and a book over his face – and I think he slept.” 

Liam shakes his head, as though not believing Harry - and frankly, he kind of doesn't believe Harry. He's never been in any of Mr Tomlinson's lessons, so he wouldn't know. But the last class that Mr Tomlinson had, had scored the highest grades in their entire school, so whatever that man did, he did it quite brilliantly – so Liam always thought. But judging from Harry's tale the 'best teacher in their school' is well... is... a homosexual pedophile? A highly intelligent homosexual pedophile.

“So, what happened then?” Liam asks, because as ridiculous as this story in itself is, it is intriguing and Harry is a slow speaker as it is, letting him pause would make the story stagnate till the very eternity. 

“So, at some point, some guys started growing annoyed – this is our senior year, we need to ace the classes, and they started, like, shouting sorta? So Mr Tomlinson woke up and told'em to shut it.” Harry shrugs lightly and bites his lower lip, “He said it in such a careless manner, y'know? Didn't care at all... and then he was about to go back to sleepin', when Josh finally burst and asked him why the fuck he doesn't teach us properly... and, um, yeah, you know the rest. He told us about not wanting to be a teacher and, uh, only getting the job to... um... well... yeah, uh, sleep, y'know, with... um, a student.”

“Maybe 'ts a kink of his?” Niall chimps in and leans his head against Liam's newly shaved one, he smiles effortlessly, as careless as ever and Harry really admires that attitude of his. 

Liam is silent, speechless and stares at Harry in utter shock and disbelief and confusion and... probably his mind isn't functioning anymore – because in a world, where the teacher is the bad guy, is a world where nothing makes sense, according to puppy Liam. 

As it seems Liam can't even muster the strength to scold Niall about inappropriate content, because that is what he'd do, when Niall says anything inappropriate – which, _yes_ , talking about their teacher's 'sexual kinks' definitely goes into that category. 

“You don't... you don't need to wonder why he'd say or want to do something like that!” Harry replies, shaking his head more often than necessary, curls flying, and stares at Niall in both bewilderment and admiration. 

“S'just a thought,” Niall grins at the two of them oddly calm by the whole topic, “Calm your tits, will ya?”

“Jesus, Niall,” Harry mutters, staring with amazement and wide eyes at Niall's calm, rather amused smile. His Irish friend sure is one of a kind. Harry can't name one other person that reacts the same way, when revealed that he's having lessons from a homosexual pedophile. 

Niall claps Liam a few times on the back, trying to get their innocent-minded friend back into the present and shrugs in his usual cheerful careless manner, “Ay, I'm just sayin'... besides, at least he's not rapist, yah? That would've been 'lot worse.” he grins again, openly laughing at both Liam's and Harry's faces that they show him in response. 

Both are completely and utterly shocked with Niall. They've known him as the careless one in their group, but not this damn careless. Not this... easy. What the fuck?!

“Niall!” Harry and Liam both exclaim at the same time – it seems Niall's controversy way of thinking has pulled Liam out of his frozen shock and he looks now both bewildered and embarrassed on Niall's behalf as he stares at his Irish friend. 

“How can you... how...” Liam obviously doesn't know what else to say and stares at Niall as though he's grown another head – which Liam would most likely understand and cope with much better than what he's just had to witness; see and hear escape his friend's mouth. “You can't be... are you serious?”

Niall shrugs, merely lifting his shoulders and smiles openly at his friends, “S'like I said, everyone's got his kinks... now we know his. Not so bad, lads... don't freak.”

“' _Not so bad_ '?!” Liam echoes, eyes growing to the size of actual saucers while he tries his hardest not to freak out completely because... well, it should be obvious why. Seriously far too obvious. 

“Jesus, did you not take your morning pill, Li?” Niall jokes, petting his friend's freshly shaved head a few times and chuckles, “I thought the doc said to take two each morning and night. What if somethin' happens, Li? We don't want your nerdy ass back in jail, do we?” Niall shakes his head, light blue eyes casting downwards as though disappointed, but the smirk gracing his lips gives him away.

“ _Jail_ ,” Harry echoes Niall's words, snorts through his nose and shakes his head, trying to rid himself of the fit of laughter that threatens to take over his whole body, “ _Liam_ and _jail_ ,” he repeats, voice a bit shriller, when he tries to bite back the laughing fit, but fails, after repeating “Jail” for the third time. The curly haired lad then bends over the table, and Niall moves fast, pulls his tray toward his body to prevent Harry from dashing his head of messy brow curls right into it, while he chuckles along. 

“Harry!” Niall pretends to scold, though his face is more serious than it has been in the whole day, “Be careful... you got food in front of ya!” he adds, motioning toward the tray now right next to his own empty one and moistens his lips, “But seeing as you clearly don't want it... I'll glad take over.” Niall doesn't await a response and stuffs two pieces of pizza into his mouth in one go. 

Harry is still laughing though, bend over the table, face almost on the clean, cold metal, while choking on his laughter, trying and failing to calm down.

Suddenly he stops dead in his tracks, body still half on the table, when he feels a hand flitter over his ass. He tenses instinctively and wants to turn around to tell Niall to piss off, because shocking him like that wasn't funny at all, but all sentences die in his throat, when he turns his curly head enough to see a pair of rich sapphire eyes behind him and his very own teacher licking his lips. 

“Don't you have a lovely ass...” the velvet voice of Mr Tomlinson exclaims and his sensual lips are pulled into his trademark smirk, all tempting and languid, when he squeezes Harry's ass with no fear of being witnessed as he does so, runs his hand along Harry's clothed rim and Harry stiffens visibly, can't react, can't think and stares in utter shock at the way his teacher openly sexually harasses him.

“What--” Liam tries to speak, but he's left in utter shock of this man's behaviour. He tries to help Harry, he really tries, but the way Mr Tomlinson so calmly sexually harasses his own student – right in front of everyone's eyes in the damn school cafeteria has him speechless and frozen in shock.

Mr Tomlinson pets Harry's ass a few more times, moves his hand languid and slow along Harry's bottom, up and down in a proper caress and seemingly oblivious to the dead silence that engulfs the whole cafeteria, “Shouldn't stick it up like that... someone might take advantage of you, Harry.” Mr Tomlinson adds and Harry doesn't miss the way his intense sapphire depths glint by his words. Harry feels a shudder run down his spine and he doesn't breathe. Can't breathe. And then Mr Tomlinson drops his hand, winks at Harry as though it is a daily and normal occasion and waves, “See you in class then, Harry Styles.” 

Harry is both, in shock and awfully awkwardly aroused by all this. And he only notices his boner when he can move again, enough to sit down properly and well, feel his erection restrained by the fabric of his jeans. He internally curses himself for choosing these specifically tight jeans to wear to school today, because this situation fucking hurts. 

So Harry has to make up some lame excuse about feeling unwell and fleet to the rest room with a book awkwardly positioned in front of his crotch, while he waves off the offers Liam sends his way about 'taking care of him' and 'making sure he's alright', because Harry is fairly certain he can take care of him himself. And he really doesn't want Liam watching him doing so.


	2. "Dirty talk, light threats, slick lips and fingers"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Um... Mr Tomlinson acting very inappropriate. Haha. Just read, really.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The long awaited post! I hope you're ready for this! ;)   
> I didn't proofread, because I'm a lazy ass, so I hope you don't mind too much when I confuse things...

Harry stares in front of the class room the next day, and he really really doesn't want to go in there, because... well, it should be obvious why. He can't possibly go in there. It's the class of the teacher that sexually harassed him in front of the whole school – talking of awkward.

And it's not only that, ever since that encounter, Harry feels those pair of rich sapphire eyes burning into his back, wherever he goes and the feeling itself sends shivers down his spine. He feels awfully conscious when he keeps glancing over his shoulders to make sure that his eccentric teacher is not following him with his eyes and grows quite a bit paranoid of the thought. Of Mr Tomlinson.

Whenever he hears his teacher's name sound, he has to snap around and make sure that he's not there. So Harry is more than a little scared, he's a bit out of his mind about this – whatever 'this' is – and can't seem to calm down at all. Which explains him being exhausted right after waking up and dreading to go to school. Harry likes school, he's a good student with many friends and well... he likes school. But right now, standing in front of Mr Tomlinson's room, Harry yearns for nothing more than turning right around and leave and--

"Styles," a velvet voice greets him from behind and Harry sucks in a sharp breath when turning around and coming face to face with none other than the devil – or Mr Tomlinson – himself.

Harry instinctively backs away and his back hits the wall, when Mr Tomlinson moves slow and lethally closer.

"My, my... are you scared of me, Harry?" The smile that Mr Tomlinson grants him is that of a hunter smiling at its prey before attacking, and Harry flinches away, tries to hide, but can't and well, frankly, he can't look away either. Mr Tomlinson's eyes are as fascinating as they are scary and Harry is a bit mesmerized by the vivid colours of oceanic to sapphire mixing into one another with a light glint of quicksilver at the inner iris. In total, Harry is completely freaked out of his mind, because he's trapped. 

"No need to be, Harry. I won't hurt you." Mr Tomlinson smiles all kind and lethally, when he moves even closer, forces his legs between Harry's and rubs their bodies together in a graceful, yet positively arousing way and Harry can't quite keep the moan at bay, that escapes. And he wants to die. He wants to fucking die, when he can't bring himself to push Mr Tomlinson away, can't bring himself to want Mr Tomlinson to move away.

"Now don't raise your voice, Harold, wouldn't want your classmates to hear, do you?" Mr Tomlinson is too fucking amused.He enjoys this situation far far too much.

Harry nearly chokes, when Mr Tomlinson moves his body in an inaudible rhythm against Harry's, grinding into him, aligning their crotches perfectly and making Harry feel every inch of his teacher's awfully fit body. Harry can't prevent what follows, his eyes close and he gives in to the pleasure that floods through him like a wave and threatens to take him under.

And then the feeling is gone. What's left is a heavily throbbing in his pants, Harry's eyes dark, pupils lust-blown when he stares in shock at his teacher, who is already at the door, hand on the door-handle, "You better collect yourself fast, love. The lesson starts in 4 and I'd hate to write you down." With that and his trademark smirk that infuriates Harry as much as it ignites something in him that goes straight to his cock, Mr Tomlinson opens the door and disappears into the class room.Harry wants to die. He really does. Not only, has his very own teacher made him hard, he did that right next to their class room, four minutes before the beginning of the first lesson with Mr Tomlinson himself. What. The. Fuck. And after getting Harry fucking throbbing with lust that bastard simply leaves. Just like that.

Harry is conflicted between being furiously irritated with Mr Tomlinson and being scared shitless of the man that had this unknown control over him, by just being in his presence. He likes to think of himself as someone who can resist, but well, Mr Tomlinson is clearly an exception. Glancing down at his hard-on that he's still sporting, he swallows lowly and bends down, moaning unwillingly when the fabric of his boxers rub against his hard-on, carefully taking his bag into his hands and covering his hard-on with it, trying to look normal and not too awkward while doing so, as he struts to the locker room in a fast pace. He knows that at this time of the day, no one is going to be there, the couch comes at 10 and it's only four to 9 am.

Pushing himself into the locker room, Harry doesn't think much and walks into the corner of his locker, leans against them and slides down the cool metal of the lockers.

He takes a slow breath, before sliding his hands into pants, instinctively closing his eyes and against his will remembering the grinding from minutes ago of Mr Tomlinson's body that felt so right against his own. He's never noticed Mr Tomlinson's body before, but now that he's had, he can't think of anything else. Pictures Mr Tomlinson's cock, rubbing against his own, as his hand runs up and down his own length, stroking the shaft and imagining petite tanned hands doing the handjob, imagines pink pouty lips wrapping obscenely around his head and taking him in fully, suppressing the gagging reflex and sucking. His hand is jerking messily up and down his length by now, and he moans and groans carelessly into the emptiness of the locker room that echoes back at him. Leans his head back against the cold metal of the locker and almost feels the wet tongue along his shaft, running under his slit and teasing him to delirium. And without wanting to, Harry ends up coming into his own hands, with Mr Tomlinson's naked image in mind, trademark smirk all over his pretty features, and his pink pouty lips swallowing Harry's come.

And Harry hates himself right then, right there. Now he has to pretend another thing that happened, never happened. Like he hadn't come while picturing his own teacher that openly sexually harassed him. Great. 

 

*

"Where were you in first period?!" Liam presses on, staring Harry down with his usually kind hazel eyes, only this once filled with irritation. He doesn't want Harry skipping, thinks it'll ruin his whole career and life, if he does it and is persistent in keeping both, Niall and Harry safe and 'in a good place', as he says so himself.

"Didn't feel so well," Harry mumbles, persistently staring at anywhere but his own hands that had helped him relief himself in a way that he doesn't dare thinking off, in Liam's presence. Or ever. No, just in Liam's presence, because no matter how ashamed the curly haired boy feels, he will probably end up doing the exact same thing in his evening shower today.

"What?" Worry clearly evident in Liam's hazel orbs, he focuses now his full attention on the youngest among them, "Did you eat something wrong at lunch today? Or, did you have something bad last night? I mean your cooking improved a lot, but you used to confuse salt and--"

"It's not that, Liam," Harry interrupts, snaps, a bit sharper than he meant to, eyes narrowing stupidly slow on the figure in the back of his sight, instantly freezing. 

"What... what is it?" Liam replies, completely oblivious to Harry literally freezing and tries to read the curly haired lad's expression. 

Harry tries his best not to show the signs of hesitation that always threaten to give his true intentions and thoughts away. And Liam is one of the best at reading Harry's every thought, whether he likes it or not. So he tries to man up, tries to look nonchalant and shrugs. "I'm sure it was nothing. I'm feeling so much better already." he assures with a winning smile, hoping to get Liam off his case for now, or for good. The latter would be preferred, though with Liam's worry-ward tendencies, it was unlikely. 

"Okay." Liam gives in, surprisingly easy, and nods his head slowly. "If you say so." 

"Where's Niall, by the way?" Harry wonders, trying to sound as normal as possible as he glances around, trying to find the perky blonde Irish that has the tendency to carry food on him wherever he goes – and eats them at the same time.

"About that... apparently he did something stupid and was asked into detention in the art teacher's office." Liam explains with a frown on his face, clearly feeling responsible for Niall's antics –more than a childhood friend should– shaking his head.

Harry grins, shaking his head. Niall sucks at art, one reason why he tends to skip those lessons. And the other reason being his tiny crush on the art teacher. Niall knows it's stupid – he mentioned something along the lines of "Even I'm not as stupid as to try hooking up with my teacher, no matter how gorgeous and how damn sexy that man is. I mean, did you look at him? His cheekbones, his velvet skin, I swear that man isn't even human, more like some Greek God or Adonis. Wait, is that the same thing? It is, isn't it? But really look at him! How can you not!". 

"So his attempt of avoiding Mr Malik got him detention in a private room with just the two of them?" Harry jokes, emerald eyes filled with mirth, really distracted from the events of this day already. 

Liam nods his head, the disapproving glint in his eyes clear. "Don't make it sound so fun, it's bad! Niall shouldn't fail art of all subjects. It's the easiest one to get by and he manages to fail with flying colours! We should have helped him more. Should have–" 

"Li!" Harry interrupts the older lad with a light grin, "As much as you love us, it's not your responsibility. You don't have to take care of us like that. Niall will be fine, he always is." he assures with an easy grin. "And besides, failing one subject won't kill him. It's Niall." 

Liam shakes his head at that. "You have no space talk, Mr Student Council President." Liam counters, "You ace every lesson of yours." 

Harry frowns at his friend's words, "I'm not prez yet, though." he replies matter-of-factly, shrugging his shoulders. "And who knows if I will be at all." 

"Oh please," Liam snorts, letting go of the model student inside of him for a moment, shaking his head. "Even I can say with confidence that the only one in your way doesn't stand a chance." He pauses, as though trying to backtrack on his words to make them sound less mean. "I mean... no offence to Emma, she just really isn't popular. And you're on the track team, you are the fastest runner. You used to have that silly band of yours and you're the best in all your classes. I'd say that gives you enough confidence to know you'll be having an easy win... soon-to-be Pres, don't be modest." 

"You do know how super awkward I feel every time you name my achievements like that, don't you?" 

"Of course I do. I'm your best friend." Liam beams right back, grin all wide. 

Harry chuckles, shaking his head at that. "That doesn't fit you at all, Mr Vice President." He retorts, adding the title that his best friend has earned himself last year and kept ever since. Since no other candidate attempted to take his spot, he would continue within the position, this time becoming most likely Harry's second hand. Now if only Niall would care about anything else than food, he might join the student council too. It isn't likely though. 

"That's okay." Liam grins back, glancing down at the book in his hand. The heavy biology book had been lying in his lap for good ten minutes, without being paid any attention to. "So, what are your plans for the weekend?" He asks randomly, avoiding to read through their homework. Even Liam has one of those days where he'd rather not work all day through. They have free periods for a reason! 

Harry shrugs, his mind absent-mindedly going to Mr Tomlinson, remembering how his teacher had been the only thing he could think about. The only object on his mind, preoccupying all space. Stupid little fantasies of his teacher have been swirling around in his head ever since yesterday, where he had jerked off to a very vivid fantasy of his teacher on his knees for him. The mere thought of those fantasies had Harry's fingers itching to his crotch, his shaft, twitching in anticipation and wanton. Louis Tomlinson was the disease Harry had not foreseen when he entered high school, hoping for a carefree normal experience. The teacher had been the one big miscalculation Harry had not once considered beforehand. The one thing that could end his normal peaceful school days. 

Just as Harry opens his mouth to answer Liam, trying to make something up that doesn't revolve around the fantasies on his very own teacher, the intercom interrupts him. 

"Harry Styles, please come to Mr Tomlinson's office! Harry Styles, please come to Mr Tomlinson's office!" it is repeated about three times, startling both boys out of their trance. 

The shock by the announcement is overshadowed by the little excitement bubbling in his mind, the stupid little voice inside of him that tells him Mr Tomlinson has come to finish what he started, anticipation growing like the stupid little disease that he couldn't stop, infecting all his insides, burning them with a throbbing excitement that he can barely bite back on his facial expression. 

"What could he possibly want from you?" Liam wonders warily, not sure what to think of the teacher that had him in a clear state of shock only yesterday by the story he has heard. He can't quite get over the cafeteria incident and chose to pretend it never happened, because teachers don't do this kind of thing! They don't just... do that. They just don't. 

"I don't know." Harry isn't sure whether he is lying or telling the truth, by how clearly his body reacts already, but he forces himself to look confused all the same. "I, um, will see you later, yeah?" he utters, when hearing the intercom repeat the same announcement again, gathering the notes he had taken during his 3rd class, the one he was half coherent again. Thinking back, isn't jerking off supposed to sate you? Why does it only increase the anticipation of seeing Louis Tomlinson in the flesh and... maybe feel his body against his own again. Fucking teenage body. Stupid and hormonal and fucking horny. For his very own teenager. 

 

* 

Harry stands in front of the office of Mr Tomlinson, swallowing shakily, his eyes flickering from left to right, as though expecting someone to notice him, see right through his behaviour. See right through him and his horny mind that already pictures Louis Tomlinson spreading Harry's legs, stepping between them, wicked grin adorning his beautiful features like a default setting. His hand tugging Harry's roughly above his head, pinning him there to the blackboard that feels cool against his skin, scraping at a few places, sapphire eyes of a vivid blue, as deep as the sea. His lips teasing his earlobe, fingers scraping against his tingling body, teasing more than anything, rough jerky motions pull down his pants, hands flicker inside his boxers, feeling his already hardening erection and-- 

"Harold, there you are." 

Harry snaps his head to the right, eyes wide just like a dear caught in the headlights. His breathing stops, coming face to the face with the star of his fantasies, freezing altogether. 

Louis Tomlinson, bright eyes and wicked little smile, stands right in front of him, hair tousled in a charming mess, he grins up at his student, oozing the same ingenious confidence that no one can compare to. The devil incarnation that Harry always refers to in his mind. Because only the devil himself is as much of an temptation as Louis Tomlinson is. 

"I thought we talked about this," Louis Tomlinson muses in amusement, ushering Harry into his office with a strong hold on his lower back, hand steadily going lower and resting just above Harry's ass, as he closes the door behind the two. His fingers instantly pushing a key into the lock and turning it. 

Harry watches uncomfortably, a mix of excitement and fear of what is to come, the key disappearing into Mr Tomlinson's pocket, as he pulls the blindfolds down, turning his head enough to give Harry an appreciative glance that causes this stupid little shudder from deep in Harry's own core, and he can't quite suppress the anticipated sigh that escapes his lips. Quite frankly, his body expresses with ever fibre of his being that he wants his teacher. And there is so much wrong with it that Harry feels his own head spinning with confusion, feeling twisted between arousal that surges up to him, when Mr Tomlinson gives him his full attention, backing him further into the room, until Harry's behind collides with a desk. Mr Tomlinson's desk, more importantly. That fact in itself, has Harry's breath hitching. 

Louis Tomlinson's wicked little smile never seems to fade as he moves closer to Harry, seemingly aware of how he makes his student uncomfortable as he just keeps invading the slightly taller boy's space without any hesitation. His impossibly blue eyes dart down Harry's lean body and back up, his eyes gleaming, his tongue darting over his bottom lip, running suggestively slow over his upper lip, moistening them. "No need to be scared of me, Harold." He breathes in an intoxicatedly slow voice, eyes hypnotizing as they lock with Harry's. 

Harry lets out a slow breath, feeling himself slowly trapped by the teacher and the stupid little voice of him that gains in power cheers, elates by the thought of having the teacher all up in his space. Better yet, all over and in his body. Harry almost flinches by the sudden flash of arousal, his eyes widening by his strong reaction, to when Louis Tomlinson lifts his hand and runs his petite beautiful fingers along Harry's cheek. It's maddening how much of an effect the elder boy – man, has on him.

It takes everything in Harry's power to choke out the words that have been racing through his mind, arguing with the little voice in his head that Louis Tomlinson would not call out to him like that without a proper reason. Trying himself to be rational about this absurd situation, but all that comes to mind is opening his legs and letting Louis' beautiful hand scissoring him open, until he leaks-- He mentally hits himself, the words barely making it out of his mouth. "What did you c-call me here for?" 

Mr Tomlinson laughs, a short sharp sound that does nothing to ease Harry's mind. In fact, by every passing second his agitation grows, as he doesn't understand, doesn't know what to make of this situation. His teacher is all up in his space, staring at him with a knowing look in his deep sapphire deaths. As though telling Harry that he knows exactly what he is doing here. And the little voice in the back of his mind elates once more. 

"You, my cute little Harold," Mr Tomlinson breathes, far more seductive than should be possible, leaning forward, so close that his breath is clouding his Harry's slightly erratic one, one of Mr Tomlinson's hands narrowing on the sipper of Harry's jeans, easily easing into the little space between two fabrics, feeling Harry's slightly throbbing shaft, already hardening under his touch. His magic tanned fingers that had Harry under his spell the moment he had reached out for him. Harry inhales sharply, his mind clouding with unwanted longing and desire. "Will give me a blowjob or I will get you expelled for teacher's harassment." A wicked grin flickers around his lips by the pure irony of the offence and his own words. He still has his hands buried in Harry's skinny jeans – jeans that are wisely chosen, and are a lot wider than yesterday's pair. Mr Tomlinson's fingers ghost just above his half-hard erection, running playfully up and down in a teasing manner that has the younger boy instinctively lean into the touch. 

It takes a good minute for the teacher's words to be registered in Harry's ears, and when they do, his eyes widen – when did he close them anyways? 

An enraged expression taking over his features. No matter what he had fantasized about with this teacher, no matter the compromising positions he had imagined in most public of places, how dare this man –the one harassing him– blackmailing him into doing something like this?! 

"WHAT! YOU DAMN--" 

"I'm joking." Louis grins, all too relaxed, "Just joking." he continues, playfully squeezing Harry's shaft, fingers slick as they slip into Harry's boxers –Harry lets out that surprised squeak that is half moan and groan–, coming into direct contact with his most sensitive skin, "And let me tell you why, Harold." He continues, leaning forward, his lips grazing Harry's earlobe gently, breath hitting his neck. Altogether the teacher is being way up in his space. "I like my victims perfectly _willing_." He pauses as though to contemplate his words, "And _open_ and _ready_ ," with a slick move of his fingers, he has Harry's shaft hardening for him and he knows it. This man is the epitome of seduction itself. "And so _desperate_ for me that they jerk off in the locker room in school, because they can't help themselves. And moaning my name. But that's not what you do, right, Harold? You wouldn't degrade yourself to going to a bathroom and a locker room in school, while anyone could walk in _any time_ , to fantasize about me, _whimper my name_ in desperate need of my hands... _my mouth_ around your big proud cock, right?" he whispers, voice low and seductive, a smirk on his lips, as his teeth graze Harry's earlobe, biting softly the sensitive skin and hears a low rewarding moan of the curly head in response. "You're so much better than that. _Way_ too good for all of this, Mr Student Council President." he pauses, biting harder on Harry's earlobe, wet tongue flickering to the shell of Harry's ear, mouth running lower to gently suck on his skin. "You, Mr Golden Boy, would never let a teacher get his hands on your precious little body... and your perky little ass." he whispers, satisfied with the way the young boys eyes widen when said boy realizes that Louis Tomlinson's fingers long ago started moving in agonizingly slow manner, teasing himself and the boy in the process, barely providing either with friction, but just enough to drive the boy wild with lust and wanton. He truly was a devil incarnation. 

"And," Louis whispers, voice low and sultry, his lips sliding down Harry's neck and sucking and biting a blossoming hickey into the pale skin, "you wouldn't ever beg a teacher for feeling his fingers and his cock inside you, right, Harold? You wouldn't do that." he whispers, pumping his fingers a little faster. By now Harry's jeans have pooled around his ankles, boxers shifting from Mr Tomlinson's rhythm in his petite tanned fingers, slick from the pre-come already leaking, as Harry's knees tremble from the tension building up in his body. 

None of his fantasies had remotely prepared him for the real thing, for the real tidal wave of pleasure washing over him like an uncontrollable storm that swallowed everything in its way. And Louis' slick fingers –slick from his very own come– pressing in just the right angles to drive him mad, continue in that slow, steady rhythm, easing louder moans out of him than he'd ever heard himself make. He barely registers Louis' words, his body mostly supported by the desk he is fully sitting on now, the other somewhere, helplessly tugging at Mr Tomlinson's shirt, neck, shoulders, anything he can put his fingers on. Just then everything stops and Mr Tomlinson, once more, is a good two feet away from Harry, a wicked grin adorning his beautiful angelic face, distorting the picture of an angel to that of a gorgeous devil. Sin himself. "You wouldn't ask a teacher to fuck you, ever, _right_?" he whispers, the words haunting Harry's mind with such clarity that Harry sinks back, back colliding with the blackboard, his lust-blown eyes set on the devil himself. "And I don't force myself onto students, because that is just... _wrong_." Mr Tomlinson continues in an innocent voice that contradicts his wicked smile, gleam in his blue eyes. 

Harry, still laboured breath, tries to understand the teacher. Tries to understand what just happened. "I..." he whispers, at a clear loss of what to say, swallowing hard, and suddenly painfully aware of the hard-on that he is sporting. "What..." 

"Look, Harold," Louis continues, smirk all too blatantly obvious. The man isn't hiding his open amusement to Harry at all. "I told you all I needed to tell you. Leave my office now, I want to take care of some things..." he pauses, his fingers swiftly going to his own erection, clear through his tight jeans. The teacher's eyes clearly shifting to the hard-on Harry is still sporting, smirk widening and his wicked eyes flashing, "Not that it's any of your concern." He adds, voice all soft and innocent, shrugging his shoulders thoughtfully. "I want my privacy now." 

Harry feels his mouth too dry, his throbbing erection screaming for attention. He knows he is panting, he knows how pathetically horny he must look, but he had been so close to the edge that even his loose jeans are uncomfortable now, scraping slightly over his proud erection to the point of pain and he had hissed, when he tries to bend down to pick up his jeans, succeeding in a slow manner. 

"The door is to your left." Mr Tomlinson continues, as though their little meeting was over already, he slips his hand into his own pants, pressing to the top of his shaft, just the way he likes it, letting out a breathless moan, closing his eyes and sinking onto the black couch to the right of his desk. He palms himself in slow relaxed motions, his breathing already going ragged. "Harry... the door." he utters, voice already a bit wrecked, a smirk on his features, as he pulls out his left hand enough to motion to the door to his office, "Close it behind you..." he whispers, running his fingers swiftly up and down his own erection, skilled quick movements, flicking a bit left, pressing a bit more in just the right places, his breath quickening. 

Harry doesn't move, can't bring himself to, as he stares at the way Mr Tomlinson's makes himself fall apart on his couch, lets go off the hauntingly beautiful and wicked smirk and replaces it with that desire that no fantasy could fake, the soft throaty moans that make Harry's cock twitch with longing. Every low groan, as beads of sweat slowly form on Louis Tomlinson's tanned skin seems to worsen Harry's state, as he finds his shaky legs moving to his teacher, instead of away from him. 

His fingers stop his teacher before the man can continue, fingers tightly digging into Mr Tomlinson's wrist. "Stop." 

"Harold," Mr Tomlinson breathes, a breathless laugh following, "It's so cruel to stop a man, who is about to come..." he whispers, again seemingly fully aware of the irony of the situation as Harry's lust-blown mind stares at the hand that is dipped into Mr Tomlinson's pants, swallowing dryly. 

"I want..." Harry utters, barely a whispers, just enough to reach Mr Tomlinson's ear. "I want..." he repeats, his eyes not able to focus on anything but the languid movements on Mr Tomlinson's fingers around his own shaft, a slow rhythm that was as hypnotizing as it was addictive. 

Mr Tomlinson opens his eyes slowly, pupils filling out his eyes, so lust-blown that his blue iris is barely a ring. "Yes?" he whispers, his eyes clouded. 

Both, fascinated and mesmerized by the composure his teacher still has, Harry lets out the words in a breath, "You to fuck me. I want you _now_."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is the long awaited post ;)
> 
> I hope you like it. Because... well, I personally would hate myself for this kind of cliffhanger hahaha.. :D
> 
> BUT, I do expect comments on this. I posted almost everything I had written up (yes, I'm a slow writer, I'm sorry... sorry not sorry)
> 
> But yeah, haha, did anyone expect Harry to say this? I sure didn't. I actually planned to make him walk out until I realized he can't, not with Mr Tomlinson doing that in front of him... XDDD
> 
> I think I've hinted at what's to come in this story... or rather who will make an appearance for those that pay attention :D
> 
> Um, what else? I feel kinda perverted, I just read a story about ******** and now I might add that into this story, just because if I have a 'smut' story, it'd be this one :D
> 
> Please tell me your opinion on this story so far :)
> 
> Sorry if it's a bit rushed... I wanted Larry action *-*
> 
> love you all <3
> 
> -E

**Author's Note:**

> I thought it was quite amusing... sorry if it wasn't :(  
> The first chaps are NEVER smut... are they? Well, this one isn't.. if you comment, I promise to post more :D  
> Argh, I love comments... can't help it.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed it! Um... love me? :)  
> -Alice


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